


i love these roads where the houses don't change (and i like you)

by emilybrontay



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, clarke hates calculus, is that even how u spell it idk, oh no my new best friends brother is hot/oh no my sisters new best friend is hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:05:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilybrontay/pseuds/emilybrontay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She hated Calc. The last year had taught her that she didn’t know a lot, but she did know she hated Calc. And that you should never mix spirits with beer. Those were two things that Clarke knew for absolute certain. Oh, and that the new girl with the scarily good eyebrows was trying her damnedest to become her new best friend, and since Wells was dead and she needed to give Raven a bit more time, Clarke was pretty sure she was going to let her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	i love these roads where the houses don't change (and i like you)

She hated Calc. The last year had taught her that she didn’t know a lot, but she did know she hated Calc. And that you should never mix spirits with beer. Those were two things that Clarke knew for absolute certain. Oh, and that the new girl with the scarily good eyebrows was trying her damnedest to become her new best friend, and since Wells was dead and she needed to give Raven a bit more time, Clarke was pretty sure she was going to let her.

“I hate Calc,” Octavia grumbled.

“I’m sure it has similar feelings toward you too,” Clarke replied, not looking up from her work.

“Can you be like, numerically illiterate? Because I think I am. Like, I’m looking at this, and it makes literally no sense.”

“Do you want my notes?”

Octavia ran a hand through her very long and very shiny brown hair. “Oh God, please, yes.” She shuffled down the table, and balanced her chin on Clarke’s shoulder to look at the notes.

“Uh,” Clarke shrugged her off, “not now, dummy. I’m still writing them.”

“Screw you, Clarke,” Octavia pouted, and Clarke laughed. Well. She sort of cackled, really.

“God, what are you, an evil dictator?”

“I do have the same initials as Che Guevara.”

“Was he evil? I should ask my brother, he has a poster of him on his bedroom wall.”

“Does your brother also listen to Radiohead?”

Octavia wrinkled her nose. “Ew, no, he’s more of a Kanye kind of guy. I know I got a bad reputation, leave a pretty girl sad reputation. You know?”

Clarke opened her mouth to say that she knew who Kanye West was, thank you very much, but was interrupted.

“Griffin! Blake! You better be talking about Calculus!” Mr Kane said sharply from his desk.

“What else would we be talking about, sir?” Clarke responded, faux sweet smile plastered on her face. He hmphed, and went back to his marking, and Clarke muttered dick under her breath. Octavia snorted.

“Blake! I don’t care if this is your second day at high school ever, I will give you detention.”

Octavia pulled a face, and turned to Clarke. “So do you wanna come to mine after school? I have like, food and stuff.”

Clarke thought about how long and lonely life was, without the comfort of Wells’ permanence, and Raven’s ferocious loyalty. “I’d love to,” she said sincerely, and Octavia beamed.

*

Octavia lived about a block away from Raven’s house (Clarke held her breath as she drove past), in a slightly grim looking building, with peeling paint and a porch that looked like a strong gust of wind would cause it to cave in.

“It was my grandma’s,” Octavia explained, “And then it was my mom’s, and now it’s mine. Well. It’s technically Bellamy’s.”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s a falling down piece of shit,” came a voice from the porch. A tall boy – man, maybe? He looked older than Clarke – leant against the doorframe, arms folded.

“Its home,” Octavia said emphatically, and ran up the garden path to hug him.

“Bell, this is Clarke. Clarke this is my brother Bellamy.”

“Right. Kanye guy.”

Bellamy raised a singular eyebrow, which greatly impressed Clarke because she only knew two people who could do that – herself, and Raven. He was, she thought, kind of hot. But equally, the light was bad on the porch, so it could have just been that.

“Clarke’s helping me with Calc.”

“I could do that,” Bellamy replied.

Octavia laughed. “Bell, please. History, yes. Calc? No.”

“If there’s a problem, I can go…”

“No,” Octavia said sharply, “I need help in Calc. Bellamy sucks at Calc.”

“I budget for us just fine!”

“That’s Econ, dumb ass. Calc’s like, graphs and shit.”

“It’s all Math to me,” Bellamy grumbled.

“See, this is why we need Clarke.”

She grinned, and Bellamy shook his head, in a way that suggested he was endeared by her rather than irritated. He slung an arm over her shoulder and they wandered into the house.

“Come on, Griffin!” Octavia called, and Clarke, feeling at ease with the two of them (it was sort of like being with Raven and Wells, only with better eyebrows), followed.

*

The light in the kitchen was bright, almost painfully so. This meant that Clarke established that Bellamy was actually hot. It was not the dim porch lamps throwing shadows where there were none. Those really were his cheekbones. Oh, crap, Clarke thought dimly, and shoved the feeling to one side. She was helping Octavia with Calc. She was not admiring the way Bellamy leant against the sideboard, watching them work at the kitchen table. She was not doing that. At all.

“So I have all my notes from the last year,” she said, pulling a folder out her bag, “and if you want I can run home and get the stuff from junior year as well, but it’s up to you, really, I don’t know how much you need.”

“Don’t worry about it – do you want a soda?”

“Oh, no thank you, I don’t drink soda.”

Octavia snorted. “Weirdo. What about coffee? Don’t tell me you don’t drink coffee.”

“My mom’s a doctor,” she began as way of explanation.

“What, do you just drink water? Where’s the fun in that?”

“I drink tea?” she said, and this seemed to pacify Octavia.

“Bell, make Clarke tea.”

“She’s your guest!” Bellamy protested, but Octavia merely raised an eyebrow (Clarke noted that within the space of a few minutes, the list of People She Knew Who Could Do That had doubled) and carried on copying down the notes.

“Fine,” Bellamy huffed, and turned to Clarke, “How’d you take it?”

“Strong and sweet.”

“Like her men,” interjected Octavia, and giggled as both Bellamy and Clarke squirmed.

He gave Clarke a look as he put the mug in the microwave, a singular raised eyebrow half smile look, and she smiled right back at him.

“Bell makes the best tea. And coffee,” Octavia said, “also cocktails. Although I’m not supposed to know that.”

“You’re seventeen,” Bellamy said shortly.

“You did so much worse when you were my age!”

“I was a troubled youth!”

“And I’m not?”

“O,” he said seriously, “you’re doing Calc homework on a Friday night.”

“He’s right,” Clarke told her, “In fact, this isn’t even homework. You’re doing unrequired Math with your brother.”

“Oh God,” Octavia groaned, dropping her head onto the desk, “I’m a nerd! I’m Brian freaking Johnson!”

“I knew letting you watch The Breakfast Club aged eleven was a mistake.”

“Eat my shorts!”

“You just proved my point!”

“That could quite easily be a Simpsons reference,” Clarke said, but Bellamy shook his head.

“Nah, ‘cos The Simpsons got it from Breakfast Club so it’s intertextual, y’know?”

“This is the nerdiest conversation I have ever heard,” Octavia said darkly.

“Shut up and do your math.”

“You’re so mean!”

Clarke snorted. She’d missed this, the warmth of friendship and closeness. Bellamy glanced at her, strange look on his face. It was like he’d never seen another human being before or something. She smiled, a little uncertainly, and he laughed (she shivered). Laughter spreads, and her own snort developed into a giggle, and pretty soon all three of them were hiccupping, clutching their stomachs with tears in their eyes. Yes, Clarke thought, she had missed this.

*

It was getting dark when Clarke left, in her teeny tiny car that Bellamy was surprised she could fit two people in. He watched her go, Octavia by his side, waving enthusiastically.

“She’s got a stick up her ass,” she said fondly, “but I like her.”

“She’s…” She was arresting, Bellamy thought, Clarke made you sit up and take notice and watch her.

Octavia watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was still staring at the spot where Clarke’s car had disappeared, the bend in the road that took her away from them.

How interesting.


End file.
